The Dark Side of The Moon
by purplepagoda
Summary: In the corner of her mother's attic Lorelai has secrets locked away in a box. Nothing can stay a secret forever.
1. Incomplete

She is standing in the foyer thumbing through mail. She has just gotten home from work, and she feels completely exhausted. She can hear Luke working on dinner in the kitchen. She passes over a Bait & Tackle catalog, a postcard from April, a coupon for Macy's, and a circular for Doose's. She is nearly to the bottom of the pile, thinking to herself, that there is nothing worth opening, when she sees it. She finds a letter addressed to her. She reads, and re-reads the name of the sender. Her breath hitches, and she contemplates her next move.

"Lorelai, dinner is almost done. Did the water bill come?"

"No," she answers flatly, as she digs her piece of mail out of the pile. She dumps the rest of the pile in the hall, along with her keys. She tosses her coat on the banister of the stairs, as she ascends them. She hears footsteps, and Luke appears in the hallway.

"Where are you going? Didn't you hear me say food?"

"Eat without me," she responds.

He furrows his brow, "Are you okay?"

"I'm going to go grab a shower. It was a long day, and I'm just really tired," she lies.

He looks at his watch, "It's six thirty two."

"I'm not hungry."

His eyes widen, "Lorelai!"

She ignores his response, and continues up the stairs. She enters their room, closing, and locking the door behind her. She lowers herself into a seated position near the end of the bed. Her eyes are drawn to the thick white envelope in her hands. In tidy blue lettering is the name of an official entity. Her throat suddenly feels as if it is filled with gravel. She wonders if a vice grip has been applied to her chest. She hears her heart pounding in her ears. She can only imagine what is contained inside the envelope.

She sits on the edge of the bed in complete, and total silence as the dark cloud moves in. She feels a sense of panic wash over her as she tries to will herself to open the letter. She casts it aside, and approaches her dresser. She pulls out pajamas, and makes a beeline for the bathroom. The warm water does nothing to help wash away her fears. When she exits the shower she towel dries, and pulls on pajamas. She brushes her teeth, and applies face cream. She doesn't bother to dry her sopping wet hair. She exits the bathroom, and crawls into her bed. The door opens unexpectedly.

"What are you doing?" Her husband asks her.

"Going to bed," she insists.

"It isn't even seven o'clock," he points out.

"Luke…" she searches for a place to begin.

He immediately picks up on the far off look in her eyes, "What is going on?"

"I can't," she answers simply.

"Okay," he agrees. He gives her a kiss, and leaves their room. She stares at the doorway mulling over his relatively calm, and collected reaction. The nagging pit of her stomach brings her back to reality. She reaches over, and retrieves her phone from the bedside table. She unlocks the device, and dials a familiar number. She anticipates that the party on the other end may not immediately answer.

"Lorelai?" Emily answers.

"Mom, I need to ask you something."

"Lorelai, are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I need to know what you did with my box. I had forgotten about it. I just remembered, and I need it. I need the box," she begins to ramble.

"What box, Lorelai?"

"It's a fireproof box that you let me store in the attic," Lorelai answers.

"Lorelai I haven't had a chance to go through the attic. The house hasn't been sold yet. I gave you the spare key. If it is something that you need you are welcome to go retrieve it. I believe some of your old CD's are up there, too."

"Is anyone at the house?"

"No. Lorelai what is this about?"

"Nothing," she lies.

"So the saga of the mysterious fireproof box of nineteen ninety-seven continues?"

"Does it haunt you?"

"I can tell that it haunts you, so it always gives me pause."

"I've got to go."

"Good night, Lorelai."

"Night, mom," she hangs up the phone.

She climbs out of bed, grabbing her phone, and racing down the stairs. Luke sits in front of the TV watching a football game.

"Where are you going?" He queries.

"Hartford," she answers as she grabs her purse, and keys.

"You're wearing pajamas," he points out.

"I am going to my mother's house."

"Your mother lives in Nantucket," he adds.

"I have to get a box," she insists.

"Do you want me to go with you?"

"No."

"Are you sure? You don't seem to be in the best frame of mind right now."

"I'm fine, dammit!"

"I'll be here when you get home."

"Okay, bye," she races out the door.

* * *

The tears wash over her before she even leaves the driveway. She blares the radio the entire journey to Hartford, but it doesn't drown out her thoughts. She stops outside the gate of her parent's house. She unlocks the gate, and drives through. She closes the gate, and heads towards the main entrance. Once inside, she starts flipping on lights. She climbs several flights of stairs until she reaches the attic. She pushes the door open, and flips on the light. She finds the attic full of boxes of various sizes, and colors. She walks to the back corner of the attic, and reaches down a small fireproof lock box from the top shelf. She opens a Van Halen CD, that rests on the shelf below. She removes the key from inside the CD case, and places it inside the box. She takes a seat on a bamboo rug. She crosses her legs in front of her, and places the box on her lap. She unlocks the box, and tosses the letter inside. She has been through her plan a hundred times. Lock up the letter, and leave the box. Her heart skips a beat.


	2. Words I Couldn't Say

She sits in the silence of her mother's empty house for what seems like an eternity. Tears drip down her chin onto her flannel pajama top as she sits Indian style on the attic floor of her childhood home. She has yet to muster up enough strength to close the lid of the box. The letter with bold blue script stares up at her. Tears blur her vision. She exhales, and wipes the tears away on the sleeve of her shirt. She swallows hard, and reaches for the letter. She apprehensively separates the flap of the envelope from its back. She reaches inside the envelope, and removes the contents. The pages are neatly folded into thirds. She unfolds the pages, and begins to read the brief, professionally written letter typed in blue script.

 _Dear Miss Lorelai Gilmore,_

 _This is a formal inquiry regarding case number 10986._

She stops reading, abruptly. Five numbers that should have no point of reference for her. Five simple numbers that should bear no meaning in her life. She shouldn't have the numbers burned into her brain. There should be no case number at all, she reminds herself. She regrets opening the letter, or the box. It is her own personal version of Pandora's box. The whirl of emotions continues for quite some time. She feels as if her soul is being crushed as she sits there, staring at a box full of secrets. She sits there for over an hour by herself, reflecting on the past. She gathers the letter, and the box, and unites them. She locks the box, and grabs it by the handle, as she leaves the attic.

She descends several flights of stairs, until she reaches the kitchen. She searches the cabinets until she finds a chipped teacup, and a bottle of scotch. She pours until the cup is full to the brim. She texts her husband, and explains that she is going to stay overnight. She mills about the house until she reaches her old room. She pushes the door open, and flips on the light. She finds that her bed is still present, with linens intact. It is the only room in the house that appears untouched. She crosses the room, and flips on the light. She crawls into the bed with her bottle of scotch. She has since lost her teacup. At this point she is simply drinking from the bottle. The firebox sits on the bedside stand. She drinks until she passes out.

She awakens with a splitting headache, and the strange sensation of someone lying next to her. She faces the door. She tries to acclimate herself to her surroundings. The clock on the wall tells her that it is the wee hours of the morning, just after three o'clock. She hears the clock ticking on the wall, as well as her own breathing, as she lies atop the covers. She listens closely, and hears the rhythmic sound of someone sleeping next to her. She can feel a foot against her leg. She carefully rolls over, and finds that she is clearly not alone. The lamp still dimly illuminates the room. She finds her mother lying with her in the bed, with her back to her. She gently nudges her. Emily awakens, and carefully repositions herself. They both sit on the bed in silence, for some time.

"Mom, what are you doing here?"

Lorelai finds that her mother is wearing a cardigan, and a pair of khakis. Emily shrugs.

"I could ask you the same, couldn't I? You don't live here."

"Neither do you," Lorelai points out.

"I was concerned someone might drink all the good scotch," Emily responds.

"You're too late. That ship has sailed."

"Lorelai it is the middle of the night. You should be at home."

"Did you drive all the way from Nantucket to tell me that?"

"I drove all the way from Nantucket because you needed me."

Lorelai deflects, "The rest of the house is packed up, for the most part. Why did you leave this room?"

"Probably for the same reason that you are hanging onto that box."

"You didn't have to come," Lorelai insists.

"You left home, in your pajamas before seven o'clock. You came here to retrieve a box from the attic. Somehow you managed to drink yourself into oblivion, and decided to stay in your old room. Pardon me, if I am a bit concerned."

"I'm fine."

"Don't lie to me."

"You should be at home," Lorelai argues.

"That is true for the both of us. I am here because you need me, even though it would kill you to admit that. I know that I am the last person that you would ever open up to, but how long are you going to carry the weight of the contents of that box around with you?"

Lorelai avoids eye contact at all costs. She remains silent too tired, and too inebriated to deflect, or even argue.

"Seriously, Lorelai? How long are you going to let all of this lie on your shoulders? How long are you going to pretend that it is a meaningless box? You have spent a good portion of your adult life avoiding the truth."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," she answers through tears.

Emily hands her a box of tissues, from her bedside stand.

"Four years ago I was doing some spring cleaning. I accidentally knocked your CD off the shelf onto the floor. When I picked it up, I realized that it seemed too light. I was livid, when I thought that you were storing an empty CD case in the attic for all these years. I opened it, and found the key. I couldn't resist the temptation. I am sorry. I never should have betrayed your trust, and opened the box."

Lorelai shakes her head, "You opened this box?"

"Yes."

"You went through my private stuff?"

"Yes," Emily confirms, "Lorelai, I am so sorry. I never should have done that."

"You're right. Wait, you went through this box four years ago?!"

"I already confirmed that," Emily points out.

"And you never said anything?"

"It was obvious that it was tucked away on a shelf to be forgotten about for a reason. Why all of a sudden did you have the need to come retrieve it now?"


	3. My Prayer For You

"I got a letter in the mail," Lorelai informs her.

"Why aren't you angry at me? You should be livid."

"I am."

"You're not yelling."

"I guess part of me is relieved," Lorelai admits.

"How so?" Emily furrows her brow.

"Because I have never told another soul."

"No one else knows?'

She shakes her head, "No."

A silence falls between them. Emily looks over at her daughter, and all she sees is pain written across her face.

"What's your next move?"

Lorelai shrugs, as she avoids her mother's glance.

"Lorelai," she squeezes her hand. Lorelai looks over, and for the first time she realizes that her mother is holding her hand. She clears her throat.

"I wouldn't even know where to begin."

"I can't imagine."

Lorelai shakes her head, "No, you can't. I have always felt like I was cheating Luke. I never explained to him why I decided not to have more children. I could never put into words the reason having another child was out of the question. That isn't fair to him."

"It isn't fair to you, either. None of this was fair."

"How are you supposed to tell someone that you are married to something like this?"

"I don't know."

"Somewhere out there in the world is an extension of me that I know nothing about," her heart skips a beat.

Emily kisses the top of Lorelai's head, "I know."

The tears shift from there passive nature into a violent sob. Lorelai cannot seem to control her tear ducts. Without a word her mother wraps her arms around her. She holds onto her grown daughter, until her violent sobbing returns to a passive trickle of tears. She silently wipes the tears from her face with a Kleenex.

"I never told anyone. I thought I could take it to my grave."

"You're only human," Emily reminds, in a soft tone.

"I never told Rory, or Luke. I never told you, though I always suspected that you had an inclination regarding part of what was going on."

"It doesn't matter."

"You were the only one who paused to give me a second look, then," Lorelai explains.

"I certainly had a suspicion," Emily confirms.

"Somewhere out there I have a son," the words fall from her mouth like daggers.

"I know," Emily responds, unable to form any other intelligible response to this long awaited admission.

"I wouldn't know him if I passed him on the street. I don't even know his name."

"The letter was from the adoption agency?" Emily assumes.

"It was an official inquiry. It was requesting information. I guess…" she trails off.

"He wants to meet you?"

She nods, "Something along those lines."

"Lorelai, why didn't you ever tell me?"

"And say, what, exactly?"

"Anything at all."

"It was complicated."

"I know that, now."

"More than I could have ever brought myself to explain at that time."

"What are you going to do?"

Lorelai shrugs, "I have no idea. In the back of my mind I always knew that this was possibility. I just didn't want to have to think about it. I tried to shove it all to the back of a shelf that I never…"

"Did that work?"

"No, of course not."

"I have something else to confess," she adds, "I don't know if it would make your decision any easier, or not."

"There are so many factors. I never told anyone. My husband is in the dark. My entire family is in the dark. The community that I love has never been given a single clue."

"I can tell you what I know, or show you, if it would make your decision any easier."

"Show me? What the hell are you talking about?"

"A private investigator obtained some basic information for me."

"What are you talking about? Obtained basic information about what?"

"I know that it is completely unforgiveable. I knew it when I did it, but I couldn't help it. I just had to know."

"You had to know, what?"

"That he was okay," Emily confesses.

"That was not your job. You shouldn't have done that."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"What did you find out?"

"I have a whole file if you want it," Emily offers.

"A file of what?"

"Basic information."

"What is his name?"

"Nathaniel."

* * *

 _November 28_ _th_ _, 1997—2338_

 _After seventeen hours in a hospital room Lorelai finally reaches the moment she has been dreading. The room is filled with the sound of wailing, as the physician grabs the baby._

" _It's a boy," the nurse announces. The physician lifts him up for Lorelai to see. The seven pound ten ounce boy is covered in amniotic fluid. Her relief is quickly replaced by sorrow. Tears beginning streaming down her cheeks with no notice._

* * *

"Lorelai," the sound of her mother's voice brings her back to reality.

She turns to look at her mother, "I don't think I want to talk about this anymore."

"You have to talk about it at some point. It isn't going away, you know that, right?"

Lorelai shrugs, "I naively thought that out of sight would mean out of mind."

"Not in this case."

Lorelai shakes her head, "No. I wish that it were that simple. I wish any of it had been simple. If any of it had been black and white, we wouldn't be here now."

"You should have told me," Emily responds, "I would have…"

Lorelai cuts her off, "You would have what? There was nothing that you could have done."

"At least I could have been there for you. For once in your life, I could have been there when you needed me. You have always been so stubborn. You never wanted to admit that you needed me."

"Who do you think I get that from?"

"Lorelai I am not as strong, or as brave as you are. I have never been. I would never have been able to raise a child at sixteen years old. I never would have had the strength to do the things that you have."

"Somedays I just feel like a coward," Lorelai admits, candidly.


	4. I'm Movin On

Emily locks eyes with her, "What, in a million years, would ever make you say that?"

"I couldn't face this. I hid from this. I pretended that it never happened. I lied to myself, and told myself that it didn't… that it doesn't hurt like hell."

"As you said it wasn't black and white."

Lorelai shakes her head, "It should have been simple. He was mine."

"How would you have been able to raise two children on your own?"

Lorelai falls silent, "I never could have, and I would have always resented him for that. I know that. It is why I made the choice that I did. At the end of the day all of the rational thought in the world doesn't make it any easier to stomach the fact that somewhere out there I have a son."

"You know that I crossed a line, and I went through that box. I scoured through every detail, and…" Emily trails off as her eyes begin to fill with tears.

"I still have a difficult time trying to wrap my head around how all of it happened. To this day it feels like a bad dream that happened to someone else."

* * *

 _March 7_ _th_ _, 1997—_

 _She is in Hartford, at a bar, with Sookie. She anxiously stares at the clock on the wall, as they sit at a booth in the corner of the room. She shifts her glance to the mixed drink in front of her. It has barely been touched. Finally she makes eye contact with Sookie, who is on her third alcoholic beverage. Another co-worker from the inn has joined them._

" _Lorelai, you've barely touched your drink," Sookie points out._

 _She feels mom guilt welling up in the pit of her stomach, as she stares at the ladies she has come out with._

" _Guys, I think I am going to head home."_

" _We haven't even been here an hour. Have some fun. Rory is over at Lane's for the night. She is fine. We are supposed to be celebrating Kara's big engagement," Sookie makes some very valid points._

" _I know, but what if Rory calls, and wants to come home early?"_

" _Lorelai, she's twelve, I think she will be fine," Sookie insists._

" _Besides, that guy over at the bar has been checking you out since we got here," Kara points out._

 _Sookie shifts her glance towards the bar, as Lorelai inwardly groans, "He looks cute, maybe you should go over, and talk to him."_

 _Lorelai grimaces, "He was in the parking lot when I got here. He said hello, and I blew him off. I am not really looking for anything, right now."_

" _We aren't telling you to marry him. You could have a dance with him, and maybe enjoy yourself," Sookie suggests._

" _I'm going to go home," she insists, grabbing her jacket, and sliding out of the booth. She digs cash out of her purse, and hands it to Sookie. "I'll be fine. Have fun, I am going to go home."_

" _Are you sure?" Sookie questions._

" _Of course."_

" _Okay," they nod in agreement._

 _She exits the bar, digging through her purse for her keys as she walks towards the door. She finally finds them as she reaches the car. She tosses her purse on the seat, and climbs into the driver's seat of the car. She closes the door, and puts the key in the ignition. She looks around, as she reaches for the gearshift to put the car into reverse. When she looks to her right, she finds someone approaching. The tall, handsome man from the bar taps on her passenger's side window. She reluctantly rolls down her window._

" _Can I help you?"_

 _In the next instant he reaches into his pocket for something. He door suddenly flies open. Before she can react she finds herself staring at a shiny black weapon. She holds her hands up._

" _If you want the purse take it," she responds, coolly. He takes a seat in her passenger's seat, closing the door behind him. He presses the gun to her head. All she can hear is the sound of her heart beating in her ears._

" _Drive," he demands._

 _She hesitantly put the car into gear. They sit in silence for several miles. He instructs her to make a series of turns. Eventually they end up in an alley next to an abandoned building. He presses the gun to her head once more._

" _Get out!" He tells her._

 _She swallows hard, and her only thought is of the twelve year old girl in Stars Hollow waiting for her to come home. Her entire life flashes before her eyes. If the story of her murder is going to be turned into a lifetime movie a simple bullet to the head without a struggle is not going to happen. Her cheeks begin to grow red with anger, as her pulse quickens._

 _She turns to face him, "No."_

" _What do you mean, no?"_

" _I am not going to leave this car. I am not going to be found lying on the ground, dead. I am not going to let you drag me into some abandoned building, where I will probably not be found for days."_

 _Suddenly the metal cracks against her head. She feels an intense pain, and ringing in her ears as he hits her with the pistol. Her head feels like it is spinning, and she quickly becomes disoriented. She reaches for her seatbelt, to unfasten it. She grabs the keys out of the ignition. In an instant they are between her fingers. She drags them across his face. He winces in pain. He launches himself at her, and suddenly her world goes black as she loses consciousness._


	5. Darkness

_When she regains consciousness he is straddling her. She shoves him as hard as she can against the steering wheel. She feels woozy, and she quickly loses consciousness again. Moments later when she comes to she finds that her hands are restrained. He has fed a belt though her head rest. She tugs at the restraints. Her left hand begins to slip out. For the next several moments she goes in and out of consciousness. At some point she realizes her hands are no longer bound. She feels the cold metal object against her forehead. She hears a metal click, and she reacts in an instant. The forward shifting motion causes enough movement to change the position of the gun, as it fires. She hears the bullet hit something solid, just as a warm, viscous liquid splatters all over her face, neck, and chest. The gun falls to the floor, and she finds herself trapped under a lifeless body. She begins screaming. Moments later someone walking on the sidewalk around the corner hears her. She hears footsteps moving in her direction. She sees someone moving towards her._

 _She wakes up in a hospital bed. She looks around the room, and finds nothing but some equipment, and some curtains. She looks down, and finds herself in hospital garb. She sits up in a panic. The curtain opens, and a nurse steps in with a police officer._

" _Ma'am, I need to get a statement from you. I understand that you have a concussion. Details may be fuzzy, but just tell me what you remember."_

* * *

Lorelai turns to her mother, to gauge her facial expression. Emily stares at her only daughter in silence.

"Who came and got you?"

"Luke."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him that I wrecked my car. I lied to him, and told him that I got t-boned in an intersection. They gave me a pair of sweats, and he didn't ask too many questions."

"What did you drive before the Jeep? I don't remember."

Lorelai shrugs, "Not that car. The police took it for evidence. I think it was some crappy Corolla, that had too many miles on it when I bought it. It was like twelve years old. It was completely ridiculous."

"You told me that you hit a deer."

"I know."

"You had a concussion?"

"Yeah, it was a pretty serious concussion."

"What did you tell Rory?"

"That I wrecked. What was I supposed to tell her? She was twelve."

"How did you keep any of it a secret?"

Lorelai shrugs, "I don't know. It was the nineties. I was already wearing a lot of bibbed overalls, and stirrup pants. Baggy sweaters were in."

Emily yawns. Lorelai glances at the clock.

"I'm exhausted," Lorelai admits.

"We can go back to sleep, or drink enough coffee that we crawl out of our skin."

"There wasn't any coffee downstairs. We should just go back to sleep."

"You know if you don't want me to stay I can go. I haven't cleaned out the guest house yet, either. I can go sleep down there, if you want."

"No," she answers softly.

"You're sure?" Emily quizzes.

"Stay," Lorelai answers as she rolls over to turn off the lamp that dimly illuminates the room. Within a few moments Lorelai hears her mother's breathing shift patterns, indicating that she has returned to a state of unconscious.

Lorelai lies there with her eyes closed, willing sleep to come. She can't help but think about all of the listless nights spent with high anxiety, just waiting for a nightmare. For nearly two years the nightmares plagued her regularly. Now only once in a great while do the nightmares interrupt her slumber. She lies completely still, but her mind feels as if it is racing. She can't help but find herself caught on a merry-go-round she has been trying to get off for nearly twenty years. It isn't surprising, really. For nearly twenty years she has lived in denial.

She has never discussed that evening with anyone, ever. She has never been truthful, or up front about what really happened that night, until today. Her heart aches as she considers the reality of the situation. From the beginning she pretended that it didn't happen. She told herself that no one ever had to know. There was no reason to bring it up.

* * *

 _May 31_ _st_ _1997—_

 _She feels herself being nudged awake by a warm creature. She opens one eye, and finds that her room is completely full of sunlight. A twelve year old stares back at her. She furrows her brow, as she rolls onto her back._

" _Rory, why are you waking me up?"_

" _I'm starving."_

" _Eat a Poptart," Lorelai suggests, "I'll be down in a while."_

" _Mom, it's almost noon!" Rory growls._

 _Lorelai sits up, and shifts her attention to her alarm clock. The bright red digits scream, 11:49. She turns her glance to Rory._

" _Why didn't you wake me, earlier?"_

" _When I got up to go to the bathroom after midnight I saw that your bedroom light was still on."_

" _Honey, I'm sorry. Give me a few minutes, and I will get dressed, and feed you lunch."_

" _Mom, are you okay?"_

" _I'm fine," she lies._

" _You look terrible."_

" _You always know just what to say to cheer me up."_

" _I made coffee."_


	6. Fresh Face

Days pass, and the darkness grows deeper. Her husband nudges her as he climbs out of bed. He whispers her name, begging her to join him. She ignores him, and sinks deeper into her covers. The metaphorical weight of things left unsaid grows with each passing moment. She watches him, as he leaves the room. Sometimes she wonders why he even considers putting up with her. She rolls onto her side, and closes her eyes. In an instant she wishes that she hadn't. All she can see is his face.

* * *

 _November 28_ _th_ _1997—_

 _After hours of waiting, and careful consideration on her part Lorelai decides to see him. A nurse knocks on the frame of the door, and she looks up, full of anxiety as the nurse passes through the threshold. Within the blink of an eye the freshly bathed newborn is being place into her arms. The nurse retreats from the room without another word._

 _Lorelai inhales, and breathes in the scent of baby lotion. She studies the face of the newborn baby in her arms. She wants so badly to feel absolutely nothing. His eyes flutter open, and his glance falls on her. She kisses his cheek, and caresses his tiny fist with her thumb._

" _Hi, little guy," she greets him. "I am so sorry that we had to meet under these circumstances. I am so sorry that you had to come here on these circumstances. I wish that this were a more joyous occasion for me. The selfish part of me wants to keep you all for myself, but that just isn't plausible. None of this is your fault. All of this has to do with circumstances far beyond your control. I have a daughter, she is thirteen. Your sister, and she is everything to me. I can't give you both the kind of lives that you deserve. I doubt that I could ever do you justice. It isn't that I don't love you. No matter how much I prayed that maybe I wouldn't, which sounds completely terrible, because I carried you inside of me for nine months, I do," She pauses to memorize every detail of his face. He stares back at her with a face that mirrors her own. She swallows hard as the tears begin to well up in her eyes, "I love you so much that it hurts. I love you so much that I know I could never do an adequate job of raising you. I wish that none of the circumstances matter, but they do. No matter how much I try to put them in the past, I simply can't. I want you to know that I am doing this for you. Someone is going to love you, and give you all of the things that I never could. One day, when you're old enough to understand you can find me, and…" she trails off abruptly. She can't hold back the tears any longer. She holds him closely as she cries. "My precious boy."_

* * *

The sound of the phone ringing brings her back into reality. She turns towards the bedside table, with an outstretched arm. She presses the phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

"I am just calling to check in," the voice on the other end tells her.

She furrows her brow, and glances at her alarm clock, "Is isn't even six o'clock. What are you doing up?"

"I woke up."

"And the first thing you thought to do was call me?"

"Were you sleeping?"

"No. Mom, that isn't the point."

"I woke up, and you were on my mind."

"I'm fine," she lies.

"You're not fine, I can tell by your tone of voice."

"My tone of voice? What tone?"

"Lorelai it doesn't matter."

"Is there a point to this call?"

"I need you to do me a favor," she insists.

"A favor? What kind of favor?"

"Get dressed, I am texting you an address."

"Texting me an address? Are you meeting me somewhere?"

"No. I need you to do this for me."

"Mom, what are you talking about?"

"Get out of bed, and take a shower. Get dressed, and go to the address that I am texting you."

"What is at this location?"

"There is coffee at the end of this rainbow, Lorelai."

"It's a coffee shop?"

"Yes," she confirms.

"What am I going there for?"

"You will know it when you see it."

"I will?"

"I promise."

"This seems devious, even for you."

"Trust me," Emily implores her.

"I have trust issues involving you dating back to nineteen sixty eight." Lorelai can practically hear her mother roll her eyes.

"Goodbye," she hangs up.

She reluctantly follows her mother's instructions. When she finally reaches her destination it is nearly eight AM. Her hair has haphazardly been secured into a ballerina bun a top her crown. She is dressed in a particularly casual style sporting a pair of jeans, and a vintage black Flock of Seagulls t-shirt. She grabs a cup of coffee, and a muffin, and retires to a booth against the wall. After twenty mother she texts her mother asking how long she needs to stay. Emily responds, 'You'll know.' Lorelai rolls her eyes, and inwardly groans as she finishes her second cup of coffee.


	7. I Ran

The bell above the door rings, and she looks up to find another patron entering the establishment. In fact it is a group of patrons entering the coffee shop. A group of young men all sporting Yale attire, which is less than shocking, since she is in New Haven. The last teenager make his way through the door is wearing a Columbia hoodie. Lorelai looks up, and briefly locks eyes with the teenager with bright blue eyes. She quickly looks away, feeling as if she has been Shanghai-d by her mother. The group files through the line quickly, and congregates at table halfway across the room. She shifts her glance to her watch, and decides that it is time to go. She gathers her trash, and scoots towards the edge of the bench. She looks up, and finds the teenager with the Columbia hoodie standing at the end of her table. He smirks at her.

"Nice t-shirt," he comments.

She shifts her glance to her t-shirt, "Before your time," she comments.

"I appreciate a good one hit wonder. I mean, what would the world do without I Ran?"

"That is a good question."

He takes a step back, "Obviously you are heading out. I won't take up any more of your time."

She grabs her refuse, and slides out of the booth as he turns to walk away.

"Thanks," she adds.

He pivots, and flashes her a smile, "Nate."

"Thanks, Nate," she races out of the coffee shop. She tosses her trash in the first bin, and makes a beeline for her Jeep.

* * *

She drives home in complete, and utter silence. She contemplates calling her mother, and cursing at her. She dials the diner.

"Can you meet me at home?" She questions, the voice on the other end of her mobile device as she enters Stars Hollow.

"Sure, what's up?"

"I just need to talk to you. Do you know where Rory is?"

"I haven't seen her yet, so I assume that she is still asleep."

"Okay."

By the time he has arrived home Rory is sitting at the kitchen table downing a cup of coffee. Lorelai sits next to her, but her cup of coffee is untouched. He stares at the two of them, simply waiting for an explanation. He looks at Lorelai, but she refutes eye contact. He shifts his glance to Rory, but she subtly shrugs, indicating that she knows nothing.

"Lorelai, what is going on?"

"Have a seat," she responds.

He furrows his brow, and waits for a further explanation.

"Sit," Lorelai says in a firmer tone. Luke pulls out a chair, and positions himself between the two girls.

"Why did you drag me out of bed?" Rory queries.

"I left a diner full of people," Luke adds.

Lorelai finally looks up at the two most important people in her life. She swallows hard, and decides that she has to tell the truth.

"Mom?" Rory looks at her expectantly.

"I need to tell the two of you something."

"Right now? It couldn't wait?" Luke growls.

"No. If I don't tell you now, I may never tell you," she admits.

"We're listening," Rory responds.

"I need the two of you to listening without interrupting," she adds.

"Okay," they agree in unison.

"And don't ask questions. You will want to ask questions, but don't. I can't answer them right now. I am not sure if I can ever answer them, and you just have to be okay with that, for now," she stipulates.

"Let me tell you something you already know. The world ain't all sunshine, and rainbows. It is a very mean and nasty place and it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life," Rory quotes.

Luke shoots her a look, "I don't think now is the right time for a Rocky reference."

Lorelai exhales realizing her daughter's Rocky quote is actually the perfect preface for what she needs to say.

"Whatever it is, just tell us," Rory implores.

"Are you sick?" Luke jumps down the rabbit hole.

"No."

"Is it the gambling debt?" Rory jokes.

She can't hold onto the secret for another second, "I have a son," she blurts out.

Their heads spin around like Linda Blair's in poltergeist. "What?" Rory responds.

"I don't understand," Luke admits.

"What do you mean, you have a son? That doesn't make the least bit of sense."

"Are you telling me that you went behind my back, and had Paris grow a test tube baby for you?"

"No," Lorelai shakes her head.

"You mean, figuratively," Rory suggests.

"I wish," she says under her breath.

"What do you mean you wish?" Luke responds.

"I think we misunderstood what you said," Rory adds.

"Maybe we misheard you," Luke agrees.

"I have a son," she repeats with a look of agony etched on her face.

"Since when?" The question falls from Rory's mouth before she can stop it.

"I…" Lorelai freezes.

"Why don't we know about this?" Luke struggles to understand.

"How could neither of us know anything about this? I think we would notice."

Without a single word Lorelai shoves her chair away from the table. She turns, and leaves the room. She climbs the stairs to her room. When she reaches the master bedroom she slams the door closed, leaving Luke and Rory at the table in a state of shock.

Luke turns to Rory as he literally scratches his head, "What just happened?"

"She said that she has a son," Rory recounts.

"What does she mean by that? Was she being literal?"

Rory shrugs, "I don't know."

"Did you know about this?"

"What does my face say?" Rory quips.

"You were genuinely surprised, so, no. This makes no sense."


	8. So Far Away

Lorelai is positioned at the end of her bed. Her legs dangle over the side as her torso is stretched across the bed horizontally. She stares at the ceiling, and prays that she is in a nightmare that she will wake up from at any moment. The sound of someone knocking on her door tells her otherwise. She hears a familiar voice on the other end.

"Mom, can I come in?"

"Sure," she replies, without sitting up. The door flies open, and Rory enters the room. She takes a seat next to her mother, but Lorelai refuses to sit up. Rory lies down next to her. She looks over at her mother, and tries to discern what could possibly be going through her head.

"Mom?"

Lorelai grimaces, and then sits up. She looks over at her daughter. She scoots to the footboard, and crosses her legs in front of her. Rory follows suit.

"Where is Luke?" Lorelai queries.

"He's still sitting at the kitchen table. He was completely caught off guard. We both were."

"I understand," she answers, flatly.

"You understand? I am glad that someone does," Rory's voice cracks.

"You may never understand," Lorelai argues.

"I certainly won't if you never give me any more details. What did you mean, when you said that you have a son? Did you mean figuratively?"

"No."

"You just found out, like in a soap opera?"

"No."

"How long have you known?"

Lorelai furrows her brow, "I was there, so the whole time."

"Approximately how long?"

"It was a long time ago," Lorelai responds.

"Are you being serious about all of this?" Rory's forehead wrinkles as she asks.

"Yes."

"Why did you decide to tell us, today?"

"My mother played me like a fiddle, and I freaked out."

"What do you mean? How did she play you like a fiddle? Does grandma know about this?"

"I know it is difficult to understand, because she is literally the last person on earth that I would tell."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"She went through my personal belongings."

"How could she do that?"

"I put them in storage in her attic."

"Why?"

"I didn't want you to find them by mistake."

"I am an adult," Rory points out.

"You weren't then."

"So, she found out, and what?"

"She called me this morning, and told me to go to this address, because there was something I needed to see."

"And?"

"She crossed so many lines," Lorelai explains.

"How so?"

"Apparently after she read my personal information she decided to hire a private investigator. Long story short I went to a coffee shop this morning, and he was there."

"Who was there?"

"My…your…" she finds herself unable to complete her thought.

"Your son? My brother? What was he doing there? Why would grandma do that?"

"I recently received a letter…" she trails off.

"From who?"

"An adoption agency."

"An adoption agency? I thought that you and Luke decided against that," Rory struggles to wrap her head around what is being said.

Lorelai shakes her head, "We did. It was a formal inquiry, informing me to his desire to meet me."

"A formal inquiry? What do you mean? He wants to meet you? Mom I don't understand any of this."

"He is nineteen, he is of a legal age. I mean, he can ask to meet me if he wants."

"What?! What do you mean he's nineteen?"

"You were twelve when I got pregnant, and I wasn't in a place in my life where I was ready to raise another child," she glosses over a thousand important details.

"You had _me_ when you were sixteen," Rory reminds her.

"That as different," Lorelai argues.

"Different, how?"

"In every way."

"I don't understand. I think that I need some time to wrap my head around this."

"Okay," she agrees.

Rory slides off the bed, and leaves the room. She pushes past Luke, as she crosses the threshold of the master bedroom. Lorelai looks up, and finds her husband standing in the doorway.

"How long have you been standing there?" Her heart sinks.

"Long enough."

She pats empty spot on the bed next to her. He enters the room, and takes a seat next to her.

"Nineteen years ago, huh?"

"Yeah," she doesn't meet his glance. She wrings her hands, and prays he doesn't connect the dots.

"You weren't really in a car accident, were you?"

"You never asked any questions," she points out.

He puts his arm around her. "I figured if you wanted me to know that you would tell me."

"I," she exhales, "I still can't tell you. I still can't talk about it."

He nods, "Okay."

She slides off the bed onto the floor. She crouches down at the side of the bed, and retrieves a fireproof box. She places the box on the bed, and uses a key to open it. She digs to the bottom of the pile, and hands him an envelope marked _Police Report_. He shakes his head, and refuses to accept it. Without a word he vacates his seat on the bed. He heads across the room to their walk in closet. He removes a tattered shoe box from the top shelf marked _Fishing Lures_. He digs through the box of newspaper articles, and personal mementos. He digs out a newspaper clipping, and returns to her side. He hands her the article. Bold black print sums up the horror. _Serial Rapist Killed During an Attack on Friday._

She stares at him in complete silence. The tears stream down her face. Without a word he wraps his muscular arms around her. She holds onto him tightly. He brushes hair out of her face. After several moments they take a seat on the edge of the bed. The tears still flow freely as she opens her mouth to speak.

"I'm sorry that I never told you."

"I'm not going anywhere," he tells her.

"I should have said something then."

"Lorelai the look on your face that day told me everything that I needed to know."


	9. In Case You Didn't Know

_March 8_ _th_ _, 1997—_

 _He drives like a maniac the entire way to Hartford. The sound of her voice is ringing in his ears. "Luke, can you come get me?" He is certain that she gave more information, but none of it stands out to him. He knows what hospital he is going to, but that is the extent of it. It is the wee hours of the morning, when he reaches her. He parks his truck outside of the ER entrance. He races through the doors, and finds her in the waiting room. She sits in a chair in the front row. Her hair has been pulled into a sloppy ponytail. She tugs at the sleeves of her grey sweatshirt. He notices that her wrists appear to be irritated, as if they are beginning to bruise. She looks up at him, as if she has never been more relieved to see him in her life. She has lacerations, and the beginnings of a gnarly bruises on her face, cheek, and forehead. Without a word he takes off his jacket, and places it around her shoulders._

" _What happened?"_

" _I was in an accident," she fibs._

" _What happened to your clothes?" He wonders, certain that she hasn't left the house in mismatched sweats._

" _They had to cut them off me."_

" _Are you okay?"_

" _It looks worse than it is. I have a concussion, so I'm not allowed to drive for a couple of days."_

" _Where is your car?"_

 _She shrugs, "I'm not even sure."_

" _Where is Rory?"_

" _At Lane's. She's safe," she answers._

" _Come on, let's get you home."_

" _I am sorry I called so late," she apologizes._

" _Don't worry about it."_

"The article in the paper came out the next day. There weren't any details regarding the identity of the victim. I cancelled my subscription to the Courant that Monday."

"I had forgotten that you subscribed to the Courant."

"Rory was pissed. She was the one who read it," he points out.

"That I do recall," Lorelai admits.

"Why today? What brought this all about?"

"He wants to meet me. My mother suggested that I go to this coffee shop, and…"

"And?"

"He was there."

"How can you be sure that it was him?"

"He had my eyes, and commented on my t-shirt."

"Did he know who you were?"

"No. I didn't introduce myself. I didn't really know what to say. I mean all of a sudden there he is, standing right in front of me."

"You can't be sure it was him."

"My mother had previously hired a private investigator, for her own personal curiosities. She told me his name."

"It was probably just a coincidence."

"No," she shakes her head, "It wasn't. She wanted me to go there and see him. It was him, I am sure of it. My gut screamed that it was. Besides, there is no denying the resemblance. It was him."

"I can't imagine what was going through your head."

"I was pissed at my mother."

"I'll bet."

"And also kind of relieved," she admits.

"How so?"

"He has decent taste in coffee, and peculiar taste in music. He looks like the male version of me."

"Are you going to agree to meet him?"

She shrugs, "I don't know. I mean, what would I say? He is nineteen years old. He doesn't need to be bogged down by what I have to say."

"What do you have to say?"

She shrugs again, "I don't know. What if he asks why I placed him up for adoption?"

"Tell him the truth."

"The truth? Tell him that the other half of his genetic makeup is dead? You want me to say that a millisecond before I met my demise I shifted enough that the gun pressed to my head moved, and the bullet went through someone else's skull before exiting my windshield? How am I supposed to tell some teenage boy that I have never met before the truth? There is no politically correct way to explain the situation. There is no easy way to break it to someone that they are the product of…" she stops abruptly.

"You don't have to tell him anything. You don't have to agree to meet him if you don't want to."

"I killed him," she admits.

"In self-defense. It was unintentional," he reminds her.

"It doesn't make any of it less traumatic. I was wearing sweats that the hospital gave me, because they took my clothes for evidence. They had blood all over them. After you dropped me off that night I stood in the shower until I ran out of hot water. I stood there for another ten minutes before I realized that the water was ice cold."

"You don't have to do this. You never have to meet him."

"I met him today."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know. I guess I thought that I could bury all of this so deep inside of me that I would never have to talk about it. It was foolish to think that it wouldn't come festering to the top eventually. I mean, this is another human being that we are talking about here. I have a son, who until very recently I never discussed with anyone."

"You could have told me."

"I didn't know how. I couldn't face it. I didn't know how you would react."

"How many times have I told you that I'm not going anywhere?"

"A million, or two."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"What should I do?"

He shrugs, "Whatever you want to do."  
"That's just it. I don't know what I want to do."

"You don't have to make a decision today, do you?"

"No."

"Then give it some time," he suggests.


	10. Happens Like That

Eventually he returns to the diner, upon her request, and leaves her alone in the house. Rory has headed off to the Stars Hollow Gazette. Lorelai stands in the kitchen, leaning against the counter drinking a cup of coffee. Her mind wanders as she stares blankly at her toaster.

* * *

 _April 21_ _st_ _, 1997—_

 _She takes a seat at a table near the window at Luke's. Rory sits next to her, with her nose in a book. Luke stops next to her, and impatiently taps his foot as he waits for her to order._

" _Coffee, and pancakes," she requests._

" _I'll have the same," Rory adds, without looking up._

" _You're killing her brain cells," Luke chides her._

" _She is the one drinking it," Lorelai argues._

" _You are the one allowing it," he points out._

" _Coffee! Please! I'm dying here. I am literally languishing as we speak," Lorelai responds dramatically._

 _He huffs, and rolls his eyes as he walks away. He quickly returns with two fresh cups of coffee. He returns behind the counter. Lorelai grabs her cup, and takes a big swig. Her face puckers, reminding Rory of the time Lucy tried to sell vitametavegamin._

" _The vitametavegamin isn't what you had hoped?" Rory questions._

 _Lorelai looks at her cup, "This coffee tastes like dirt. Can I have yours?"_

" _What if mine tastes like dirt?"_

" _Try it and see," Lorelai suggests._

 _Rory takes a sip of her coffee, "You are crazy, it tastes fine."_

" _Trade me cups."_

" _Whatever," Rory rolls her eyes._

 _Lorelai swaps her cup for Rory's. She takes another large drink of coffee, with a similar outcome._

" _What is your problem today?" Rory quizzes._

" _What are you talking about?"_

" _First you sleep through your alarm clock, and now Luke's coffee tastes like dirt to you?"_

 _Lorelai shrugs, "Not my day, I guess."_

* * *

 _June 5_ _th_ _, 1997_

 _Lorelai races down the stairs, already running late for work. She finds Rory sitting on the couch with a pile of bags, waiting on her. Rory hands her a travel mug full off coffee._

" _We need to go, we're going to be late."_

 _Lorelai accepts the cup, and furrows her brow, "Are you moving out?"_

" _No," Rory shakes her head._

" _What's with the suitcase?"_

" _We are going on a field trip."_

" _To the moon?" Lorelai tries to recall._

" _To New York. Remember? I had to sell wrapping paper as a fundraiser?"_

" _I vaguely recall that."_

" _And you had to sign a permission slip, and write a check."_

" _I did?"_

" _Yes," Rory confirms._

" _When did I do that?"_

" _Like three months ago. It was before Easter," Rory reminds her._

" _I don't remember. I'm sorry," Lorelai admits._

" _I brought home the permission slip over spring break."_

" _Spring break? What did we do over spring break?"_

" _You worked, because you forgot I was on spring break. You were supposed to take a few days off, but you forgot to turn in your slip for time off. It was the second week in March. Remember? You went and bought the crap-mobile."_

" _Ah, yes. That was almost three months ago?"_

" _Yes. I don't have time to discuss this. Mom, I need to be at the school in five minutes."_

" _Okay."_

* * *

 _June 5_ _th_ _, 1997—_

 _Lorelai returns home to an empty house. She orders Chinese, and grabs her planner, and the remote, and retires to the couch. She flips open her planner to March. She finds a large circle, and a reminder written in Rory's handwriting, 'Turn in Permission Slip and check', is written on March 17_ _th_ _. She studies the entries for March. She is suddenly overwhelmed by a sinking feeling. She turns back to February, and then past March to April. She skips May, and goes straight to June._

 _A sticker reminds her of a wedding at the inn on Saturday. She has been in the thick of wedding season since the beginning of May. A lump begins to form in her throat. She abruptly vacates her seat on the couch, and makes a beeline for her bathroom. She races up the stairs like a mad woman._

 _When she reaches the master bathroom she pulls open the cabinet door, and finds a pile of toilet paper underneath the sink. She shoves the Charmin aside, and grabs the bag sitting next to it. It is a Doose's bag, containing a pack of Tampax. She furrows her brow, and attempts to recall when she last bought tampons. Sticking to the side of the box is a receipt. She peels the receipt off the package, and silently reads the date. Her heart skips a beat._

 _She lowers herself to the floor. She stares at the box in disbelief. She shakes her head, and tries to collect her thoughts. Her breathing begins to become rapid, and shallow. She tries to quiet the swirl of racing thoughts in her head. Her attempts prove futile._

" _I haven't had a period since February?" She closes the cabinet doors, and leans against the cabinets as she sits on the floor. "That can't be right. Can it? Oh, no. No, no, no. This cannot be happening."_


	11. Starting Point

_Less than an hour later she finds herself at a Walgreens, milling through the store. She nervously checks off the items on her list as she tosses them into the basket. When she reaches the last item on her list, Q-tips she knows that she can delay the inevitable no longer. She turns down aisle eleven with her anxiety through the roof. She passes up condoms, and yeast infection kits. She freezes when she finally reaches the pregnancy tests. The wall of tests promises rapid responses, and accuracy. She turns her head, and randomly selects two boxes. She quickly makes her purchases, and flees to her car. She is halfway to Stars Hollow when the realization hits her. She pulls over at a gas station, and parks in front of the store. She glances at the bag glaring at her in the passenger's seat. She quickly reads the instructions on the boxes, and finds that they are identical. Pink plus signs seem to be the universal 'Oh crap' sign. She rips the two boxes open, and retrieves the contents. She stuffs them into the pocket of her jacket, and heads inside._

 _Once inside she heads into the bathroom. Much to her relief she finds that it is a private bathroom. A second sigh of relief comes when she realizes that it is relatively clean. She nervously pees on the sticks, and lays them on a layer of paper towels on the counter. She washes her hands, and then stares at the second hand of her watch until it makes a full trip around the face a handful of times. She takes a deep breath, and for a passing moment she feels queasy. She ignores the sensation, and shifts her glance to the bathroom counter. Her heart drops when she sees the neon pink plus signs staring up at her._

* * *

 _June 6_ _th_ _, 1997—_

 _She has left the inn in the middle of the day for a long lunch in order to make a trip to her OB/GYN. The physician has managed to fit her in due to a cancellation. Lorelai sits in the waiting room, smacking gum, and reading a six month old Vogue. She waits rather impatiently for her name to be called. Eventually it is, and she is escorted into an exam room. After the nurse, and physician ask her a series of questions the physician performs her exam. At that point she informs Lorelai of a cancellation in the sonogram schedule._

" _I might not even be pregnant," Lorelai tries to reason with her._

" _That vial of blood you surrendered when you got her tells us that you are."_

" _Oh."_

 _She feels completely numb as a nurse escorts her to another room. She waits anxiously on the technician. She lies on a table in a paper gown. Within a few moments it is all over. She gets redressed, and heads back to work._

* * *

She takes a seat at the kitchen table. The fireproof box sits in the middle of the table. She sets aside a manila envelope her mother has given her. She grabs a white envelope, and dumps the contents onto the surface of the table. She thumbs through a series of black and white images. She recalls making the conscious decision not to find out the gender, though the offered the option to her a multitude of times. She comes to a couple of images that aren't black and white. The first is of a newborn baby boy lying in his basinet. The second is of her holding said baby. Among the items in the pile is a crib card. She stares at it for some time. It makes little sense, as she had long ago memorized the details. _Baby Boy Gilmore_. _8 lbs 2 oz. 22 inches long._ In a gallon size Ziplock baggy is a cap, and a blanket. Lying on the table is also a pair of hospital bracelets.

Her heart aches as she stares at the items lying before her. The beginning of a life that she knows nothing about. It was the only way, she reminds herself. She shakes her head, wondering how many times she has had to tell herself that. How many times has she tried to convince herself that it doesn't hurt like hell every time she thinks about the son she brought into the world. She scheduled an induction on Black Friday, though his due date wasn't for two weeks. Her parents had agreed to keep Rory over the long weekend, though they didn't know why. Emily didn't question Lorelai's generosity. A squeaking floorboard interrupts her train of thought. She looks up, and finds her daughter standing next to her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You were young, and it was really complicated."

"How old is he?" Rory wonders.

"Nineteen," Lorelai admits.

"Nineteen? You kept this from me for all of this time?"

"Rory, I'm sorry."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I didn't want you to get hurt. I didn't want you to ask questions that I couldn't answer. I didn't want you to look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"With your eyes full of disappointment. I didn't want to see looking back at me as if I turned your hero into a villain."

"I don't remember you being in a relationship with anyone back then," Rory admits.

"I wasn't."

"I…"

Lorelai points to another manila envelope, "Start there," she suggests, as she vacates her seat.


	12. Little Moments

Lorelai grabs her jacket, and her reading glasses. She takes the envelope her mother has given her, and retreats to the porch swing. She ignores the brisk air, as she removes the items from inside the envelope. She finds herself staring at what she assumes to be a senior picture, of the young man she saw in the coffee shop. Her heart skips a beat. She studies his face. He has her eyes, and her lips. He even has her smile. He has a strong jawline, and thick hair. She removes the paperclip that binds the pages together. She reads the private investigator's report thoroughly. _Nathaniel Joel Lawson_ , is revealed to be his name. Part way through the information she stops abruptly, and pulls her phone out of her jacket pocket. Her mother answers on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Mom, why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"That his parents died in a car accident, recently? I just stumbled on the newspaper article."

"I didn't want to pressure you into making a decision."

"Really?! You sent me to the coffee shop where he hangs out."

"I didn't know whether he would show up, or not. He is on winter break, but that doesn't mean…"

Lorelai cuts her off, "Cut the bullshit. That was wrong of you. If you want to meet him you can. Don't corner me into making a decision based on your own selfish desires."

"I am sorry. I just wanted you to see him. I thought it would be good for you."

"Good for me? It has created complete and total chaos in my life. Not only did I see him, but he saw me. I wasn't prepared to interact with him. I…" she begins to rant.

"Stop!" Emily insists, "You are driving yourself crazy. I know you. I know that you hate not having closure. You have seen him, what more do you need?"

She huffs, "Now I know that my kid is out there in the world without any parents to guide him, or support him. You don't get to make this decision for me."

"Lorelai, I know that. Meet him, or don't, it is up to you. I can't even imagine how difficult this is for you."

"No you can't! Why did you do this?"

"How long have you driven yourself mad about whether or not he is okay?"

"That is not the point!"

"Lorelai, I don't know what you want me to say. I don't know what to say about any of this."

"Bye," she abruptly hangs up the phone. The tears race down her cheeks.

* * *

 _July 4_ _th_ _, 1997—_

 _She sits in a chair near her parent's pool. She watches as Rory frolics in the pool. Her mother takes a seat beside her, grimacing at her attire. She wears a loose fitting sundress with sunflowers on it. Emily hands Lorelai a drink. She wants to raid the bar, but she can't. She places the drink on the stand between them._

" _Dinner will be done soon."_

" _Okay."_

" _Are you feeling alright?"_

" _Fine, why?"_

" _You've barely said two words all evening."_

" _I'm fine."_

" _Have you put on some weight?"_

" _Excuse me?!"_

" _Your face just looks chunkier than usual."_

" _It is probably just the light," Lorelai suggests._

" _I guess," she nods, as she relaxes in her chair._

 _Lorelai avoids eye contact as her mother scrutinizes her every movement. She focuses on Rory, instead of turning to her mother, and snapping at her._

 _Emily watches her daughter, as she leans back in the chair. A thought crosses her mind, but she quickly dismisses it._

* * *

The following day Lorelai finds herself being drawn to the coffee shop once again. She sits in the same booth as the previous day. She waits for the raucous group of boys to come in. At five after ten she has nearly given up hope. She finishes the last sip of her second cup of coffee, when the bell above the door rings. The bright eyed young man enters the room. He dumps his jacket at the booth in front of her, and proceeds to the register. He grabs a cup of coffee, and a bagel, and returns to his seat. She watches the back of his head for ten minutes. She loses her nerve, and collects her belongings. She walks past him on her way to the door.

"Excuse me?" He begins. She groans inwardly, and turns towards him.

"Huh?"

"Are you new around here?"

"No," she shakes her head.

"It's just that I have never seen you here before, and now I've seen you twice in two days."

"I just came for the coffee."

He furrows his brow, "It is mediocre at best."

"If it is mediocre what brings _you_ here?"

"It is close to my apartment. There certainly isn't anywhere better in the area."

"Fair enough," she turns to go.

"Wait."

She pivots in his direction once more. "Yeah?"

"Nothing, never mind."

"Seriously, what?"

"Yesterday I came in with my buddies."

"I noticed."

"Some of them made the observation that…" he trails off.

She grins, "I look like the female version of you?"

"Yeah," he confirms.

She takes a seat across the table from him. She extends her hand. "Nathaniel, I am Lorelai."

He doesn't immediately place his hand in hers. "No one calls me Nathaniel."

"I am sorry," she apologizes, with her hand still extended, "Nate."

"Nice to meet you," he suddenly feels nervous.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he nods.

"Why are you eating a bagel?"

"She said that some lady got the last muffin. I guess if you snooze, you lose."

"I guess I should confess that I am some lady."

"You took the last blueberry muffin? That is a serious offense."

"What if I give you cash for a replacement muffin, which you can enjoy tomorrow morning?"

"Will you be here?"

"No," she admits.

"Yesterday when I came in I got the feeling that you were looking for someone."

"I was," she admits.

"Was it me?"

The question hits her like a ton of bricks.


End file.
